Hand Grave and Big Stone
by Paradoxos
Summary: Drabbles. Vignettes. Short stories that need a home.[Tezuka x Oishi centric]
1. Carnation

**Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.**

**A/N: **I've written a lot of drabbles and such... I'll just place them all in here instead of submitting them individually.

**And always, please enjoy.**

**NOTE: **Tezuka --> Oishi**  
**

**WARNINGS: You find out.  
**

* * *

**Carnation**

He dreams about him from time to time.

Oishi was another item on his list of life's regrets; maybe he was even the first one on the list according to importance.

If ever in doubt over which he regretted more over, Oishi or his second regret, he would choose the former without hesitation.

Because his second regret, and the third, the fourth, and so on, all revolved around his first; they were all correlated.

Nowhere, on his list, can tennis be found anywhere.

He played tennis now, professionally.

So it was not a regret.

He was actually doing it.

Yet, he dreams about tennis from time to time, too.

And it would always be accompanied by his junior high school tennis teammates, all whose faces have been obscure and blurry in his dreams except for one.

Oishi.

And the dreams would all serve to remind him of his biggest regret, again and again.

Oishi.

Perhaps he is still grieving over his death, a death that should not have provoked regret, since he had no way of preventing it from becoming reality no matter how many scenarios he recomposed and the different outcomes he had recreated in his mind.

He might have been able to delay death.

But, definitely not prevent it.

Now, regret captured all of his memory.

In a way, he is holding onto him now as he holds onto his memories, unlike before, when he allowed him to slip out of his grasp too many countless times.

Before, he had a lot of time.

Now, he has no time.

He is too late.

* * *

A flower shop: neat, tidy, well-kept and slightly attractive to passersby in its faint captivating aroma---perhaps when he first decided to enter the shop, it had appealed to him in its resemblance to his deceased companion, whose physical resting place he was to visit that day. 

A bucket of carnations innocently halted all his further advances in his first step through the entrance.

He surrendered his attention at their demand.

The current shopkeeper must have noticed the small inconvenience, pausing from her work.

"Ah. I apologize, sir. I will move that immediately."

Saying, gloved hands slid the misplaced bucket back to the side with its other flowery companions.

"What is its meaning?"

He asked, suddenly, quietly.

"I'm sorry?"  
He never removed his tiger eyes from the carnations.

She followed the invisible path of his vision with her own.

"Oh. It's 'I'll never forget you.'"

Memory pressed down upon his eyelids as they squeezed out a negligible amount of gentleness.

"Never...is it?"

A whisper.

A question he did not seek the answer to from anyone.

Maybe in time, when he retires from tennis and adds it as another item on his regrets list, Oishi will then be replaced, and he will forget him.

But, it was his never now.

* * *

**Authoress's Crap:**

For some reason, I just think that tragedy between these two is so possible. Hm... Maybe it's because they're both so traditional...

**And yes, about the title. "Hand Grave" translates to "Tezuka", and "Big Stone" translates to "Oishi".**

Anyways, thank you for reading. See you next time.


	2. Angels Don't Smile

**A/N:I'm sure you've probably heard this a million times, but... Sorry for not posting for so long (even though it indicated in the summary that I'd post twice a week...)... SO, I'm making it up with a double post (even though both vignettes are pretty short, but...)**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

Set before Tezuka leaves for Kyushuu/Germany. The morning of the flight, to be exact.

**NOTE: Tezuka --＞＜-- Oishi**

* * *

**Angels Don't Smile**

Angels were creatures of light.

Angels were needed by all, for guidance, for support, for strength.

Just like him.

He was the captain of a tennis team, depended upon for guidance, for support, for strength.

He was an angel.

Many thought angels smiled an elegant, kind smile.

He was an angel who did not smile.

Yet, the fact that he represented an angel, a creature of light, became undeniable to him.

Even when others found his apathetic countenance patronizing.

* * *

_"…Tezuka." He managed after the other's gentle warmth left his lips._

_His companion did not reply._

_Instead, he turned his attention towards the final arrangement and organization of his luggage. _

_And he knew, then, exactly, clearly, the message they have exchanged through their brief contact._

"I will be back."

"I will be waiting."

* * *

Now, their angel has taken flight, becoming a distant speck devoured by his original home---the mass of pure white clouds. 

Yes, their angel.

He belongs not only to him, he thinks sadly, but to everyone who have laid their hopes and dreams upon his wings.

And perhaps, he ponders as his fingers carefully traces the curves and lines of his lips, the only thing he could call his was that kiss, that farewell present he left for him to drain the flowing river of his worries.

* * *

**Authoress's Crap:**

The "angel" in here is Tezuka (no duh). The OVA opening showed him in his true form. But seriously speaking, while Oishi is thinking this, I am sure Tezuka is thinking just the same about him too... (in my dreams, yes)

Okay, next!


	3. Things Left Behind

**A/N: Confusing material ahead. You are warned.**

**NOTE: Tezuka--****＞＜****--Oishi **

* * *

**Things Left Behind**

When tears finally dry, what shall be the remnants that will prove the existence of a previous relationship?

Let it be the old photographs' gray ashes, still fresh and warm from the fire's intensity.

Let it not be a moment in time, left behind, of what was in the past; let it not serve as a reminder to them, two busy souls whose boats of life are caught in the turbulent flow of time.

The rough currents demand much from them; they have no time to disembark and enjoy each other's company.

When tears finally dry, what shall be the remnants that will prove the existence of a previous relationship?

Let it be the sepia memories provoked by the mind to probe at old inner scars ceasing to heal.

Let it not be a fantasy, a dream, or what could have happened and can still happen; let it not serve as a renewal of hope that shall encourage them to try again.

The fleeting optimism reminds them of rarely successful reconciliations in their dark, dark world.

When tears finally dry, what shall be the remnants that will prove the existence of a previous relationship?

Nothing.

It is better that nothing will prove such a short-lived and hopeless existence.

* * *

**Authoress's Crap:**

My views of this world are quite optimistic, thank you (even though my writing reflects nothing of that).

Like I said before, there is something about this pairing that is strangely tragic. Perhaps it is the tragedy that not many support this pairing online.

Special thanks to the stranger online at baidu; I am glad this is your favorite PoT CP. It is mine too.

Again, thank you for reading.


	4. Body Heat

**Disclaimer: It must be re-emphasized...**

**NOTE: Tezuka x Oishi****  
**

* * *

**Body Heat**

"Why are you so cold?"

He allowed his arms to wrap around his companion's shoulders, firmly, gently, avoiding having to suffocate him by squeezing too tightly.

"Why are you so cold, Tezuka?"

The warmth of his arms is not enough.

He presses his chest against his back in a desperate attempt to spread warmth to his cold back.

His forever cold back.

His warmth, like spirit energy, is transferred through their close contact. And that cold back absorbs his heat greedily, unwavering, unmoved.

The heat of his arms and his torso escapes him, being absorbed by the other's shoulders and back.

His warmth slowly leaks away.

His companion's back, draining the heat, remains cold, remains unmoving.

And he worries and fears.

By the time he contributes all of his warmth, perhaps the other's shoulders and back will still be cold.

Before warming him, he, himself, will turn cold.

And he worries and fears.

A heavy sigh slipping from his companion's mouth held a short and fleeting note of irritation.

"You are doing it incorrectly again, Oishi."

He unravels his arms around him and detaches himself.

Allowing no spare time for disappointment to invade the other's system, he turns, quickly, capturing him in his own cage of torso and arms.

And his burning, passionate heat soothes him, mercilessly killing all the shivers he inhibited under his skin.

"This is your place. Remember that."

"Aa." Enjoying, relaxing, he closed his eyes, allowing the temporary loss of his sense of sight heighten his sense of touch.

* * *

**Authoress's Crap:**

For some reason, I am really enjoying (and craving) simple and innocent TezuOishi fics right now. You know, the ones with limited physical stuff (besides hugging).


	5. Once Every Year, Nevermore

**A/N: **Long time no write. Then again, I didn't really write this recently. This is from last year. And what's more is. It is not edited besides probably a wee bit of grammar. I don't know... as soon as I upload all those crazy drabbles I wrote in the past I think I'll retire as a fanfic writer altogether... (sniff) (sniff)

**WARNINGS: It's "one of those" again.**

**NOTES: Tezuka x Oishi**

* * *

**Once Every Year, Nevermore**

_"We will promise each other, no matter how busy either of us are, we will always celebrate our birthdays together."_

--

"Happy Birthday, Kunimitsu."

"Thank you, Mother, Father, and Grandfather." A plain, clean-cut answer was the style of his doing. It successfully led others' extraneous worries astray and branded him as an independent man capable of taking care of himself.

He wove this illusion for others to see and to accept, even for those close to him. Naturally.

It always worked, except against two people.

"Kunimitsu, maybe you should come back to live with us… Let us take care of you."

One was his mother, who cradled him inside her womb once upon a time for ten months and nursed him as a precious part of herself.

"Mother, that will be unnecessary." _There is someone here who takes perfect care of me_. He wanted to say, but his tongue knots when he attempted to express the thought verbally.

That someone was the other who saw through the thickness of his defenses.

That someone, Oishi Syuichirou, was who he waited for, today, at this hour.

--

Tiger eyes intercepted Time ticking itself away high up against the wall.

Ten fifteen.

Outside, daylight is not preserved for long from the dominance of autumn night. Shadows of dark clouds loomed closely on top of one another, creating thickness that only individual starlight can shine through..

Inside, no artificial light with the exception for one, was lit to save the room from the consumption of total darkness.

He waits.

He seated himself upon the couch; its soft yet durable seat accepted his weight without any instability threatening rebellion.

He had not left it ever since seven, after his parents phoned in from across the seas.

His gaze ghosted over the light façade of the clock again.

Ten thirty.

He could not have possibly forgotten about their promise.

No, of course not.

The circled date upon the calendar and the phone call from earlier proved the day to be his birthday.

It was his birthday, yes, he was sure of it.

Was it unique?

Perhaps one of the doctors, nurses, or patients in the hospital his companion worked at shared his birthday. And knowing him, his gentle personality was the weakness that others took full advantage of, as they dragged him to their long and overwhelming celebrations and parties, and deprived him time of being with him.

It was happening again.

Looping his fingers around the teacup's handle, his mouth sought the hot liquid inside to calm the upheaval rising within him.

Coolness chilled his lips at the first sip.

He placed the cup back onto the table, annoyance slightly heightened at the inconvenience.

Instead, his hands went to capture the book lying beside his cup.

The surface of his glasses reflected the seven letters that combined into a warning to prevent the outsides' intrusion. Beyond, lied a terrain unexplored even by him.

This terrain was under his companion's domination.

The sight of the book always served to arouse his interest, the flame inside of him that is sparked by minimal things.

Yet, each time he is to explore it, his actions would always be aborted by the arrival of the other.

Coincidence.

He did not believe in coincidences.

But he did believe that his companion and the book were connected…somehow.

Then, perhaps if he attempts one more time to proceed, he would be encouraging his immediate arrival.

The irony of it, he mused. While he wished for no interruptions before, the reason that dominates him now and persuades him to venture is not interest but the simple wish of being interrupted by its owner.

Eleven o'clock was chimed by the clock.

He opened it.

The sound of keys jingling at the door was faraway, unheard.

He began on the first entry.

And each entry each day, after that was a minute, one full cycle of the second hand, passed away on the clock.

It was at the last minute remaining in the hour of eleven, that he came upon the day "October 7th" scribbled onto the title of the entry.

It contained words. Yes, it did.

But they did not piece together as experience, as spontaneous emotions.

Instead, they formed a plan, a blueprint that mapped out clearly his companion's plans for the day.

His eyes traveled across each phrase residing on each line, mentally changing into his companion sorting through the check list.

His gaze lingered onto the last word when twelve individual rings chimed heavily, slowly, knocking effectively at his senses.

October seventh was over.

His birthday was over.

It was now October eighth.

There was no more Oishi Syuichirou.

He flipped to the next page that should have revealed October eighth.

But there was no entry for October eighth.

Because Oishi Syuichirou did not write in his journal on October eighth two years ago.

And he hadn't written in it ever since.

* * *

**Authoress's Crap:**

So. Happy Birthday, buchou!

Um... The ending. Yes. Interpret it however you want to interpret it.

Thank you for reading!


	6. Stray: Data Relationship

**NOTE: Inui****--＞****Oishi**

**WARNINGS: Nerd language. If you don't know what "correlations" are from Statistics, please look it up if you want to proceed.**

* * *

**Data Relationship**

Collecting data was an art.

It, like all other types of art, required practice, patience, passion and concentration.

Each piece of artwork created (or each piece of data collected, in this case) required great accuracy.

And accuracy can never be achieved through speed.

It required slow and steady concentration.

This was too true.

Otherwise, he would have never discovered the hopelessness in the possibility of them being together.

Their relationship was like the correlation graph that had zero correlation.

What one variable accomplished never influenced the other.

In the end, he wondered if their relationship could even be called a relationship.

* * *

**Authoress's Crap:**

The result of doing too much Statistics homework.

Thank you for reading.


	7. Stray: Acquaintance

**NOTE: Echizen ****＜-- Oishi, implied Tezuka x Oishi**

**Oishi POV**

* * *

**Acquaintance**

What is the bond between acquaintances but loose and fleeting like the running waters?

Always flowing, but going nowhere.

Nowhere at all.

So, so what if they have met?

So what if he had been given the chance to approach him, to reach out, to make a meaningful exchange--his own heart for the other's?

And so what if the other is gone now?

Gone back to where he had come from--his home country in America.

So what?

He is not unlucky.

At least he dreams about him from time to time, that boy so well equipped with the dauntlessness and energy of youth.

At least, he still dreams of his playful, mischievous smiles.

And at least, when he wakes up to find the subject of his dreams missing from his life, he still has another source of comfort beside him, day after day, night after night.

And, seeing his companion beside him, at least his days are peaceful and undisturbed by the regret and dull pain that haunt his dreams at night.

* * *

**Authoress's Crap:**

My first RyoOishi (my Crack OTP)... Inspired by 藍淋's new novel, 君子之交. That story kills me, kills miracles, and everything else.

Thank you VERY MUCH for reading!


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